Fix You
by Made of Ossum
Summary: Wolfram was right; he got some kind of satisfaction out of fixing everyone's problems...but he couldn't fix this. This time, he had only made everything worse. / Yuri&Wolfram. One-shot. T for sensuality/language.


**_Disclaimer: _**_I don't own Kyo Kara Maoh!  
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><p><strong>AN: **Okay, I have NO IDEA what this is. It came out of nowhere, and I wrote most of it when I was half asleep, and it doesn't even seem like the beginning is a beginning to me. I feel like Yuri and Wolfram are both out of character, and I haven't even FINISHED KKM yet, so I have no business writing fics for it... BUT PLEASE FORGIVE ME AND LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK ANYWAYS. xD I hope that there is something redeemable in this. D:**  
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><p><strong><em>Fix You<em>**

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><p>"You're <em>mine<em>, Yuri. You're _my_...betrothed..."

Wolfram's words caught in his throat, his breathing heavy and difficult, as if he was choking on his own emotions.

If eyes really were the window to the soul, then his had been beaten down, so wrenched with sorrow that it was beyond repair. And yet those eyes—those strikingly green eyes—they were still so hauntingly beautiful, glistening with...what looked like..._tears_?

Yes, Yuri suddenly realized, as a few leaked out down Wolfram's cheeks—that's exactly what they were.

He was _crying_.

Yuri drew in a sharp breath. He had never seen the blonde in such a state before...so vulnerable, so wounded. So openly...weak. He was so completely different from the bratty, insulting boy Yuri knew that it was beginning to terrify him. After all, _Yuri _was the wimp. Not this strong, skilled swordsman who left Yuri awestruck every time he drew his blade from his sheath.

And the worst part of it all was that Yuri didn't have any damned idea how to handle this situation.

So he started out by mumbling lamely, "Wolfram, i-it's not what you think, I swear it..."

"How could you, Yuri?" Wolfram muttered, the quiet bitterness in his voice as piercing as a dagger. "How could you be so blatantly unfaithful?"

He was visibly trembling now, and Yuri couldn't bear to look in his eyes anymore. Couldn't bear the reverberating silence, or to hear his hushed sobs.

And then, out of nowhere, something inside of him snapped.

"_STOP_!"

Wolfram recoiled as if he had been slapped, and Yuri felt a rapidly growing need to throw up from how sick he was with himself.

"Wolfram—I just—please don't! I—I can't take it..."

But that only seemed to make the tears flow harder.

"You can't take it? _You_ can't take it? I'm the one who had to see you with that—that _bitch_!" Wolfram yelled back, chest heaving from exertion.

No—it wasn't like that—he hadn't meant to...he wasn't _trying_ to hurt him!

But he didn't know how to say it. His lips just wouldn't form the words. He couldn't tell Wolfram what he needed to hear; he couldn't stop Wolfram's pretty face from being marred by such pain.

But it had to stop. He just wanted it to stop. _It needed to stop._

That was the only coherent thought in Yuri's head—the actions that followed afterward were merely instinctive.

Yuri's limbs reached out on their own accord, fingers shaking as he cupped Wolfram's face in his hands. Their eyes locked onto one another's, and the deep despair in Wolfram's emerald orbs was somewhat lightened by curiosity at the strange intensity in Yuri's. The young demon king felt like his mind was detached from his body when his face inched closer—almost as if he was watching the scene that was unfolding instead of participating in it.

But when their lips met, it was nothing short of real.

Yuri felt Wolfram's intake of breath before he heard it, and that one soft action flooded him with chills. He took extra care to make sure that every bit of his kiss was tender, as if Wolfram was a china doll and Yuri was scared of creating another crack in his fragile porcelain visage.

They remained in that still embrace for several moments, and then Yuri let his lips draw back just enough to allow Wolfram to replenish his air supply without leaving the personal bubble he had invaded. His thumbs stroked away all the moisture Wolfram's tears had left on his cheeks, and he could feel the boy begin to tremble again under his touch.

"This is how your first kiss should've been," Wolfram whispered.

And although Yuri wanted to jokingly ask if Wolfram was sure that he'd never been kissed before today, he couldn't bring himself to argue. Because he knew that he was right.

As soon as he had finished using his lips for speaking, Wolfram made haste in smashing them back against Yuri's. His hands alighted on Yuri's face, caressing the soft skin of his cheeks as his fingertips wound their way up into the boy's beautiful dark hair.

There was an urgency in his touch, like he was worried that this was all some Cinderella-esque fairy tale, and the long awaited embrace with his prince king would end when the clock struck midnight. So Yuri shifted his position to envelope Wolfram tightly in his arms, as if to say, _I'm not letting go_.

Yuri didn't even notice they had begun moving until the backs his legs hit the bed and his upper body collapsed against the mattress. His eyes widened a little in surprise, and Wolfram leaned over him, a smirk playing on his supple lips.

"Wolfram, I—I thought—"

"You thought I was uke?" Wolfram finished for him. "Don't make me laugh, wimp," he whispered, the warmth of his breath making Yuri's ear tingle.

"Don't...call me...that," Yuri struggled to retort, as Wolfram's mouth moved across his jaw. The close proximity of their bodies was alarmingly impossible to ignore, and the reddening of his cheeks was not the only involuntary response he had to worry about.

Against his skin, Yuri could feel the corners of Wolfram's lips turn upwards again. "But you are one," he chuckled, as he continued to make his way down Yuri's neck.

"No...," he protested, his breathing heavy. His face burned even more than he thought possible, and he spluttered out, "I'm not!"

All at once, Wolfram stopped grazing and pulled up so that he could stare directly into Yuri's eyes. "Then prove it," he stated simply.

Yuri's eyes darted away, and he began to tremble. His embarrassment was so entertaining, Wolfram couldn't help but tease.

"Can't even look at me," he tsked."You know, there's a reason my element is fire..." He lowered his voice. "Do I make you hot, _wimp_?"

Yuri inhaled sharply, almost unable to comprehend the way Wolfram was speaking to him. He did, however, understand one word—

"I am _not_ a wimp!"

Making use of his arms, which were still wrapped around the other boy, Yuri yanked Wolfram's hips against his own. The blonde's mouth opened slightly in shock as their bodies collided, and from it a small whimper was emitted.

Regardless of the fact that he was on bottom, Yuri seized control of his fiancé once more. His lips burned with fervency as they latched themselves onto Wolfram's; his tongue was slick with desire as it prodded its way into the unknown depths of Wolfram's mouth. Somehow, despite how tightly they were pressed together, Yuri's arms snaked up Wolfram's chest and his fingers began to clumsily unbutton the blue uniform concealed it.

It was an agonizingly slow process, yet seemed like the blink of an eye, as jacket and shirt were both stripped away to reveal the gorgeous physique lying underneath of them. Yuri tore his attention from Wolfram's mouth for a moment in order to fully behold it.

It was almost a shame that such beauty was hidden from the world, Yuri thought, except that it was safer this way. This way, he wouldn't have to worry quite as much about people trying to steal Wolfram's body from him. There was a reason you kept precious jewels locked away, after all.

_It's mine. _"You're...mine...," he murmured, pressing his lips to Wolfram's neck and leaving a mark which would make that claim evident to anyone who saw it.

Wolfram's heart swelled until it felt like it might burst. He _was_ Yuri's; he always had beent—ever since that fateful night of the proposal. Of course, Yuri hadn't actually wanted him then, but...

Wait a minute. Yuri had never wanted him. So why—

"Why do you want me _now_?" he demanded suddenly, eyes turning harsh.

Confused and disoriented, Yuri blinked at him a few times before trying to form the word. "Wh-what?"

Wolfram abruptly pulled away, straightened himself, and backed up. "_Why_ do you want me _now_?" he repeated. "You never have before. You don't even like boys," he sneered, "as your little escapade earlier this evening didn't fail to remind me."

"Wait a minute," Yuri protested softly. "I know you think I'm a flirt. And I'm still not totally used to the idea of being engaged...especially to a guy. But I would never do something intentional to hurt you, Wolfram." His eyes were pleading.

"So you expect me to believe that _she_ kissed _you_ or some other crap like that?" Wolfram scoffed. "Please. I'm sure the next thing I'll be hearing is that you didn't enjoy one second of it. Such bullshit."

"But she _was_ the one who came onto me, and"—Yuri paused to think about the kiss for a moment—"no, I didn't enjoy it. Not like I enjoyed all of...this." He gestured uncomfortably.

Wolfram, who was still half-naked and fully understood what "all of _this_" meant, blushed profusely and yanked his shirt from the floor with an indignant air about himself. "Even if that were true, it doesn't explain why you threw yourself at me tonight!" he argued. "I've spent countless nights in your bed, wearing that stupid nightgown to try and please you, and not _once_ did you make any kind of move. All you did was complain about my presence!"

"I...I'm sorry."

"You're _sorry_?" Wolfram repeated incredulously. "I didn't _ask_ you to be sorry. I asked you_ why_ you want me_ now_, if you even do at all!"

Yuri's eyes swept over him, over the tousled blonde hair and flushed cheeks, over the piercing green eyes that were boring into his soul, and over the bare chest that, in his anger, Wolfram wasn't trying very hard to cover—the shirt he had picked from the floor was balled up into his fist instead of draped over him. But Yuri's favorite sight at the moment had to be the hickey he'd left on Wolfram's neck. It was really a shame that his uniform would cover it up completely.

"Of course I want you," Yuri said quietly, as he savored the view before him. _You're so damn sexy_. The thought almost made Yuri laugh out loud. He might've said it, too, if Wolfram had been in a better mood.

"WHY?"

"I...don't know."

"I swear to God, Yuri, if you don't tell me why—!"

He couldn't think, couldn't concentrate with _that_ in front of him. But he had to focus and come up with an answer, or Wolfram was most likely going to walk right through the bedroom door.

"I...I think it was seeing you so broken. It...did something to me." He stumbled hastily over his words. "I just wanted to fix you."

"I'm pretty sure I never _asked_ you to fix me, Yuri," Wolfram shot back. "I know you seem to get off on fixing everyone's problems, but I'm _not_ another helpless subject of yours. I can take care of my own damn self without the Maoh rushing in to save the day for me."

"I...fix isn't what I meant."

"Oh, then do explain, Your Majesty." Wolfram folded his arms across his chest, the use of Yuri's title dripping with sarcasm.

"I've never seen you so vulnerable before," Yuri said quietly. "I...couldn't take seeing you cry; I had to make it better, I had to make you happy again... I just...wanted to make you happy..."

Wolfram's expression was impossible to read. Slowly, he took a few steps closer, and Yuri's heart began to pound. He grabbed him by the arms and yanked him upwards until Yuri was staring directly into his steely gaze.

"I am _not_ some pity fuck," he snarled.

And just like that, any semblance of a touch was gone, and Wolfram was storming out the door. The sound of it slamming shut echoed throughout the hallways and reverberated through Yuri's head.

His stomach sank so low that he thought he was going to be sick, as he realized Wolfram was probably never coming through that door again. He...he did love him, and now it was too late to have that kind of realization.

Yuri's hands balled into fists which were almost meant for himself. Wolfram was right; he got some kind of satisfaction out of fixing everyone's problems...but he couldn't fix this. This time, he had only made everything worse.

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><p><strong>AN: **Did I mention it was short? xP Anyways, please review. I'd much appreciate it. :)**_  
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